Chapter 12
TWELVE
Sadie
I pulled into my parking garage and turned off the engine of my Jeep, and with the strap of my bag dangling on my shoulder, I got out. I waved the fob in front of the lobby door and took the elevator to my floor. Once I was inside my condo, I tossed my bag onto a chair and flopped down on my couch, wincing at the slight pain between my legs.
But it was a good pain.
A delicious pain.
A pain that made me smile as I attempted to catch my breath from the last fifteen or so hours.
What had really kicked off the gasping and wildness of the evening was Lockhart’s mention of Dear Foodie. Her following had grown so tremendously that I wasn’t surprised when people talked about her in front of me, not knowing it was me. But hearing him discuss her with such high regard and that he’d used her recipe—one she’d filmed in this very kitchen with an altered voice-over—was too much.
So was the fact that his meatballs were better than mine.
But that was the first time I’d ever been in a situation where a man I liked—a man I was basically dating—discussed Dear Foodie with me.
And when it happened, I freaked.
I didn’t know what the hell to do, so I did the only thing I knew that would stop the conversation, and that was untying my jacket and dissolving the bet and allowing him to touch me.
Something I wanted as well.
And it certainly worked.
Because from that point forward, my body became possessed by what he was doing to me. His touching. His licking. His thrusting.
There wasn’t a spot on me that wasn’t caressed by some part of him.
Oh God, it was everything.
And when we eventually peeled away from one another, we ate the meatballs and orzo with the freshly baked baguette, and I was in literal heaven. We had more of it for breakfast, and I left shortly after we finished eating.
But the whole time I was there, I didn’t dare take out my phone from my bag, for fear that a notification would come across my screen and he’d see it.
I had been dying to though.
I wanted a glimpse of his online presence, and I wanted to learn more about him through pictures. Since that was the very way I expressed myself, it was how I related most to people.
I wanted that connection with Lockhart.
And I couldn’t wait a second longer.
I unlocked the screen and clicked on my Instagram app, scrolling to the Greek meatball reel, and I pulled up the likes. There were over forty thousand, but there was a search bar directly above the likes, allowing me to look up by name who had double-tapped the video.
I typed Lockhart Wright .
Nothing came up.
I then typed Lockhart .
Not a single like, out of over forty thousand, is named Lockhart?
That was odd.
But this wasn’t the first time I’d attempted to find his account on Instagram. It was, however, the first time I’d looked him up as someone who liked my posts. I repeated the same process under my total list of followers, but that didn’t produce anything either.
There was possibly a way around this.
Under my followers, I typed Eden .
Six accounts loaded, and I studied each of their last names.
Smith.
Kelley.
Filla.
Lowery.
Swift.
The final one didn’t have a last name mentioned, but there was a W that followed Eden in her username, along with a mix of numbers.
That was her, Eden Wright—it had to be.
On her profile, with a bio filled with relatable emojis, I slowly moved through her collection of pictures. In many, she was alone, doing things around LA—hiking, sunbathing, eating. And in the ones where she wasn’t alone, she was with other women. Looks-wise, she was the complete opposite of Lockhart with beautiful, long blonde hair and blue eyes. She was most likely in her mid-twenties, which would fit the age description he’d given to me. But blonde? Her roots were too well covered to see if it was natural. I scrolled back up and dug through her followers, searching for Lockhart and Colson—the only other sibling he’d mentioned—and nothing came up.
So, Lockhart’s sister followed me.
But what about him? The way he’d spoken about Dear Foodie gave me the impression that he was a follower too. Did he not use his name online? So many people didn’t because they didn’t have to.
Shit, Dear Foodie wasn’t my name.
As I returned to Eden’s pictures, a text came across my screen.
Lockhart
Did you make it home safely?
I immediately exited out of her account, feeling as though I’d been caught red-handed—something I knew was impossible, but the coincidence was uncanny.
Still, the smile that pulled across my lips, the sigh that came through them—he was the only one who could trigger those.
God, I liked this man.
But things were suddenly … messy? Complicated?
A territory I had absolutely no idea how to navigate.
Ugh.
Me
All safe and sound. Thank you for an amazing night.
And morning.
I needed backup.
I pulled up my Contacts and then my Favorites folder and hit Bryn’s name, holding the phone to my ear, hearing her answer, “Good morning?—”
“I need help. ”
“Is this like 911 help? Or in-need-of-a-mimosa kind of help?”
I leaned back into the cushions. “Maybe somewhere in between.”
“You spent the night at Lockhart’s. Did something happen?”
“It went great, Bryn. I’m talking, it couldn’t have gone better. Except … he brought up Dear Foodie. But not in passing. Like, he really talked about her. That she has quite the influence on the food scene, and it’s fucking crazy that she’s been able to keep her identity a secret, and everyone wants to know who she is, and no one can figure it out.” I slid out my elastic, letting my hair fall to both sides of my face.
“Do you think he knows it’s you?”
“No.” As soon as the word left my mouth, I backtracked and voiced, “I mean, it’s possible, but I didn’t get the feeling he knew. He was too nonchalant about it. He wasn’t goading me. He was speaking freely about someone he—I don’t know—admires in a sense? I don’t even know if that’s the right way to describe it. But he made my recipe for dinner—the Greek meatballs. And side note: his tasted better than mine.”
“Good Lord.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, let’s put this into perspective, shall we? The men I’ve dated in the past, I swear, if I had shown up to their house with flaming red hair, they wouldn’t have noticed. And if I’d questioned them whether I looked different, they’d have probably asked if I got a new outfit. In other words, they weren’t observant at all. Maybe Lockhart is the same?”
I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t know …”
“You hide yourself so well, Sadie. You disguise your voice. You don’t show any part of your face. The only things people see are your arms and wrists and hands, and it’s not like you have fingers that are distinct or super memorable.”
I massaged between my eyebrows, where an ache was forming. “True.”
My phone beeped, and I pulled it away from my ear to look at the screen.
Lockhart
What do you have going on tonight?
Me
Girl dinner, LOL. You?
“I think you’re safe, which is what you’re worried about, right?” She paused. “You don’t want him to know about Dear Foodie?”
“There’s that, yes. But what happens if I eventually want him to know who I am?” I exhaled. “It’s like he already knows her. But we’re two different people who are, in some fucked-up way, the same. How do I even make that introduction? Oh, by the way, you’ve been using my recipes to cook your family dinner. I’m glad you enjoyed them. Let’s skip past the logistics of this nutty job I have and talk about—I don’t know—the weather ?”
My phone beeped again.
Lockhart
What’s girl dinner?
I’m going out with my brother.
Me
A charcuterie board of whatever is in my fridge and pantry. Tell me you’re jealous, LOL.
Ooh. Where are you guys going ?
“You’ve never had to tell any of your dates about that side of you,” she said.
I leaned forward, switching her to speakerphone while I held the phone on top of my knees. “And I’ve never had to have them sign an NDA, which is a hard requirement.”
“Oh boy.”
“Yep—again.”
Lockhart
Horned. Have you been back there since I stole you away from your reservation?
Me
Yesss! And I loved it. So much.
“I can see where the anxiety is coming from,” Bryn said. “You really are a problem, girlfriend.” She laughed.
“I know.”
“I don’t want to say how do we fix this because there’s nothing to fix. You are who you are, and you’re a total badass boss bitch. But this other side of you does create a few layers that will have to be worked around.”
“And I have no idea how to do that.”
Lockhart
Sounds like I’ll be impressed then.
Me
You’ll be blown away. It’s one of the best restaurants I’ve been to in a while.
I hovered my thumbs over the screen, tempted to mention Dear Foodie’s review since I was sure he’d read it.
But I couldn’t.
I was positive that would only send some bad karma into the universe.
Me
Have the best time and save room for the butter cake. It’s to DIE for.
I watched the bubble appear under his name, showing me that he was typing, and then it quickly disappeared. It happened again, but no text came through.
My concentration on Lockhart was interrupted when Bryn said, “We’ll figure this out, Sadie.”
Another bubble popped up, this one only lasting a few seconds before it was gone.
“I hope so,” I exhaled.
Lockhart
I’ll be impressed then …
But last night’s dessert is going to be hard to beat. I think pina colada cupcakes may be my new favorite. Licking that frosting off you? Fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.
Me
Agreed. xo